More Than The Eyes See
by Jo Dawn
Summary: Mikey's always been the funny one, the comic relief. But is that what he wants? Then he meets someone who makes him rethink his feelings...


A/N - This story came to me tonight, and I wrote it in about an hour. It might suck, so be forewarned. Please read and review, let me know what you think. Nothing too cruel, though, please. Preferably, no flames… ;) On with the story: 

More Than The Eyes See…

Michaelangelo stomped through the sewers, making his way away from the lair, away from his brothers. 

__

They just didn't understand. He thought to himself. _They just always treat me like a kid… _

He came to a stop under a manhole and went up the ladder, carefully sliding the cover off slightly. Looking around and seeing no one, he pulled his coat around his body tighter and quickly exited the sewers. 

He found himself nearby Central Park. He didn't think he'd walked that far. Narrowing his eyes, he took off into the park. 

Soon, he had made his way partway into the park, and spotted a bench that sat partway in the shadows. 

He walked over to it, then flopped onto it, crossing his arms. 

"Need to talk?" 

The voice almost made him fall off the bench. He hadn't looked very closely before he'd sat down. A girl, who looked to be a little older than himself, sat there on the shadowed part of the bench. She was smaller than he was, a little petite. She wasn't looking at him, but staring at a couple walking down the walkway. 

"What makes you ask that?" He asked her warily. 

She laughed, and began talking again. "Well, the way you came storming into the park, then sat down with such… _flair…_" She laughed again, and even Mike had to smile. Her voice was quiet, breathy, and her laugh… it was the same way, but it was awfully infectious… 

He chuckled a bit. "It feels good to laugh." He said. 

"Oh?" She asked, still not looking at him. "You don't laugh often?" 

"Oh, well yeah, but… well, today wasn't the best day. And after today, a laugh felt good." 

"Ah." She simply said. "Want to talk about it?" 

He did, but he wasn't sure if he should. Then again, she did seem like an awfully nice person. And she didn't pose that much of a threat. He looked her over. No sign of any weapons, either. Mike relaxed then. He got a good vibe from her. 

"Well," He began. "My brothers… I love them and all, but they always treat me like I'm a kid… like I'm stupid." 

"You seem to be of average intelligence to me." She grinned. "But then again, I don't know you." 

"Well, maybe I _do _act a little… young sometimes." 

"Why?" She asked. 

He looked away from her. "It's… easier that way, I guess. My family doesn't live a… normal life and sometimes it gets hard." 

She nodded and he continued. "And, well, when things get tough, they look to me a lot of the time. I get to put on a show, goof around, and get all the laughs." He shrugged. "I be 'Funny Mikey' for them, and make some of the problems go away." 

"But you can't do that all the time." She said softly. 

"No." He said. 

"Have you ever… told them this?" She asked him after a moment. 

He shook his head. "No." 

"Why not?" 

"Well, because… they need someone to… lighten the mood a bit. And if I can give them that…" He trailed off. 

She nodded. "That's very kind of you, you know. To do that for them." 

"But they don't appreciate it." He said, looking at the ground. 

"Oh, I'm sure they do, even if they don't say it. Just like you don't tell them what's really going on." 

He grinned at that. "You're perceptive." He looked at her. "And incredibly easy to talk to." 

She looked away again, watching some more people a bit away from them. "Where I live, a lot of the people come and talk to me." She said softly. 

"Where do you live?" Mike asked, looking around. He hadn't thought of it before, a young girl alone in Central Park. His mind had been on other things. 

"Um…" She began, then pointed in a direction. "I live in a building down that way." 

"An apartment? I have a friend who lives not far from here…" 

She smiled softly. "Yeah, you can call it an apartment." 

"What are you doing out here?" He asked her, now genuinely interested in why she'd be here alone so late. 

"I like to walk in the park. Watch the people." She said. "Sometimes, I even meet a few interesting ones, too." She turned to him, and smiled. 

He grinned at this. "But…" He continued. "Aren't you afraid?" 

"No." She answered firmly. "I'm not." 

He nodded, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. When she spoke again, he was startled and jumped a bit, looking at her. 

"What are _you _so afraid of?" She asked him. 

He looked around, frowning. "Nothing… Wait, what do you…" 

"You keep moving your coat and hat around so I can't see you. What are you afraid of?" 

"Oh, that." His mind raced furiously for an excuse. "Well, I have a bit of a… skin condition, and it usually kind of freaks people out." 

"Not much freaks me out." She replied. Darn it. She wasn't going to give up. He thought for a few more moments. She did seem nice enough… 

He looked at her. She smiled at him, and he gently, slowly, lifted the hat from his head, the light from overhead light illuminating his face and getting in his eyes. He blinked a few times, and when he looked back at her she was… smiling. 

"You're one of them." She said softly. 

"One of them?" He asked, confused. 

"I've heard of you." She said. 

"You… you have?" 

"You live under the city, in the sewers…" He said nothing, and she continued. "I've heard about you. Stories, rumors… legends, if you will. But I've heard them." She paused for a moment. "I've always wanted to meet you." She said softly. "For so long… they said I'd never live to see you…" 

His forehead creased in a frown. "Why?" He asked and she looked at him, broken out of her reverie. 

"Why wouldn't you ever live to see us?" He asked her, and she smiled sadly. 

"Oh, Mikey… That place I live in.. It's not an apartment, it's… it's called a hospice." He frowned and she continued. "It's where people go when they're terminal." 

He sat up. "You… you work there, right?" His voice trembled slightly at that. 

She shook her head. "No." 

He sat back. It felt as if his stomach had gone into his shoes. After a moment, he found his breath again. "I'm sorry." He said softly. 

She looked back over at him, as if surprised he'd said that. 

"I'm not." She said quickly, then smiled again. "Well, I _am _but… not about everything." She looked away from him again, and he waited for her to continue. 

"I mean, there's lots of stuff I wanted to see, to do." She sighed. "Get married, have kids…turn 22. "She took a breath. "I'm 21 and a half…" She added quietly, and he felt his eyes tear. He thought she was sixteen, seventeen at best. He took a closer look at her, and was surprised at what he saw. She wasn't so much petite as thin and frail, and she wore a winter jacket where a light one, if any at all, was necessary. 

She caught him looking and smiled. He looked at her, and saw, for the first time, the bags under her eyes, and the weariness in her face. But when she smiled, it almost all went away… 

He gulped, and she laughed quietly. "Oh, there's a lot of stuff that I _got _to do that a lot of others didn't." She continued. "I've traveled… I get to 'sneak out' of the hospice whenever I want. And, I met you." 

Her eyes met his, and he found he couldn't bear to stare at her for long. He felt he'd cry, and he knew she didn't want that. Funny what you can sense about a stranger after only a few minutes, a few words. 

"I'm sorry." He repeated, and she smiled. "I wish we'd met earlier." He continued. 

"I don't." She said. "Otherwise, it wouldn't have been this special." She sat for a moment, then laughed again. He was amazed at her ability to laugh through all this. 

"I'm usually the one who listens forever about people's problems, and here you got me to spill my guts." She said. 

He smiled. "Part of my natural charm." 

"Your brothers are very lucky to have someone like you, who they can come to." She said. "Even if you don't always like it. It's your gift." 

"Yours too." He pointed out. 

She nodded. "Yes. Mine too." she glanced at her watch. "Oh, look. I have to be getting back or I might get cau-" She stopped, but he knew what she was going to say. 

"I thought you said you were allowed out?" He teased. "You lied to me. You sneak out." 

"You're a turtle." She pointed at him, bopping him slightly on the nose with her finger. 

He grinned and rubbed his nose. "Got me there." He said. 

She laughed, and stood slowly. He jumped up and helped her the rest of the way up. She smiled at him and he grinned back. 

"Thank you." She said, rubbing her hands on her arms, as if cold. 

"Thank _you._" He said. "Can I… walk you home?" He asked her. 

"Isn't it always so much more… romantic in the movies, when two strangers meet somewhere, then both disappear; but never without having touched the other forever?" She said, as if she hadn't heard his question. 

He got what she was saying, and nodded. 

"Goodbye, Mikey." She said, and began walking away. 

"Wait!" He cried suddenly. "I don't even know your name." 

She turned and looked at him again, and shook her head sadly. "If you knew, you'd only be sad whenever you heard it." She said simply. 

He looked down. "I'm glad I got mad and stormed into the park, and sat down on the bench without looking." He said. 

"Me too." She said. "Bye Mikey." She gave a little wave, then walked away. 

He stood there, watching her go, until he couldn't see her anymore. He didn't follow her, he knew she didn't want that. 

Soon, he replaced his hat and began the walk back down to the lair. His heart was lighter now, though. He wasn't as angry. His brothers still might not understand him completely… But, he realized, if they did, what else would there be to learn? He might not always be happy with not being taken seriously all the time… and it might always be like that. But he could deal with it. And, because of her, he knew it was possible to smile and laugh through it all. 

The End. 

Disclaimer - I don't own the TMNT. No profit is being made from this story (not like it could be, but anyway). The girl, I suppose, is mine, though. 


End file.
